Monday, December 10, 2018

On Friday, December 8th, I went to the First Unitarian Church in downtown
Brooklyn to see a rare solo performance by Annette Peacock. The show was
produced by Blank Forms and Artists Space. It was part of an
end-of-the-year fundraiser for Blank Forms with the first few rows being
set aside for donors. The room was full, and the audience waited patiently
for nearly an hour before the performer took the stage. The lack of any
audience response to the delay demonstrates that this behavior was both
anticipated by the sizeable crowd and provided also a fortuitous
opportunity for the community of music fans to socialize with one other in
anticipation of the set.

Peacock, who is now 78 years old, demonstrated that time has not diminished
either her playing or her singing ability. The most effective songs from
the performance were those that did not include synthesizers and
pre-recorded instruments. Those that did feature synthesizers often felt
trapped in the time of their creation, the 1970s and the 1980s. Those
pieces that relied only on her voice and piano skills felt fresh, exciting,
and new despite that fact that most of these songs were written decades
ago.

Annette Peacock's work feels sui generis, a prototypical "one of a
kind." The first stage of her
musical career spans the decade from 1965 to
1975, during which Paul Bley recorded many of Peacock's songs including
"Touching," "Blood," "Mr. Joy," and "Nothing Ever Was, Anyway." These
important recordings helped to establish ECM Records, and they continue to
be frequently covered by other artists, including recent versions by
guitarist Mary Halvorson and Nels Cline. Peacock was an early adopter of
synthesizers and was among the first to use a Moog to treat her vocals. Her
songs are often notable for their oddly melodic structures and the frank
discussion of sexuality and relationships. Since the ECM release of An Acrobat's Heart in 2000, there have been no studio recordings
and only a small handful of live appearances.

While not the subject of a major re-issue campaign, Peacock has managed the
trick of establishing a new audience even in the absence of new recordings
or touring. The audience on Friday contained plenty of grey-haired persons
but also a strong contingent of young listeners. Considering that the
artist controls much of her own catalog, which was released on her own
Ironic Records label, this would seem to be a good time for her to make
them available again, at least in a digital format.
The set ran a little more than an hour. The singer appeared to be suffering
from stage-fright which resulted in the feeling that she was unhappy to be
performing, and indeed she disappeared from the stage as quickly as
possible without a word to the audience when she was finished. Despite the
audience's clearly demonstrated desire for an encore, no encore was
forthcoming. Yet none of this behavior seemed to surprise those in
attendance.

I had seen a very similar performance from Annette Peacock last year at the
"Le Guess Who Festival" in Utrecht. She arrived late to take the stage and
was seemingly miserable while performing, and then left abruptly while
concluding. I checked a few other reviews of recent performances, and this
does seem to be a pattern. If not for the truly original nature of her
compositions and her wonderful voice I would not recommend this so
enthusiastically!

Peacock's gifts are impressive and more than made up for her shortfalls. It
was clear that this was a feeling that was shared by the members of her
Brooklyn audience.

***

After coming to New York City in 1983, Eric Stern has practiced law by day and followed the improv music scene by night. He presently coordinates the House of Improv which organizes monthly performances.